StillMe?
by LC8422
Summary: Between the bus ride home and the next morning, my take on what could of happened. (A/C) Slash.


Disclaimers:

1- I don't own these charactors, they are property of the wonderful Terry and Neil

2- I'm making no money off this

3- My first dabble into this world, I hope I do it a small amount of justice.

As the bus made its way towards London, Crowley sat pondering Agnes last prophecy. "Choose your faces wisely". To be honest, he'd always hated riddles, they were more Aziraphale's department.

Aziraphale. Good, righteous, Aziraphale. When he'd walked into that burning bookshop earlier in the day, he'd thought he'd never see him again. He knew honestly he wasn't dead, just inconveniently discorporated, but the truth was, that the chances of him seeing his angel again were next to nothing. With an impending Apocalypse, Heaven had other priorities then assigning new bodies. His best hope was to see him on the battlefield, in a war neither of them wanted to be a part of.

But now, despite everything, here they sat, together, like they had been for 6,000 years.

Crowley looked over at said angel. He looked tired, and Crowley tried to remember if Aziraphale had ever looked tired before. He found himself staring and judging of all things. It was his first close up look at the angel since Adam had split him from Madame Tracy. He didn't know Aziraphale, not the way Crowley did. Did he get the details that he loved most right? The way his eyes turned an almost stormy shade of blue when he was cross, the laugh lines that he could very easy miracle away but chose not to because, as the angel put it "they showed life had happened", his scent, his taste.

Thousands of years of discipline and rules were ingrained in them both. Never get too close, always keep your distance, you never know who is watching. In private those rules had slowly broken down. Neither was sure how it started, although both were sure a bottle of wine had most definitely been involved. But slowly, over the years, in a dusty bookshop or stylish flat or at dinners and lunches in at the Ritz or no name cafes, boundaries had been erased as their acquaintanceship moved to friendship and then, around 30 years ago, into something more.

Fuck the rules right now. Crowley needed to know that the angel sitting next to him, who'd just defied Heaven and Hell, was real. It had taken everything Crowley had not to wrap his arms around him when Adam had first separated the two beings. Even sitting on the bench, waiting for the bus, reminding Aziraphale that his bookshop was gone, he was still afraid to touch him. As if he did, it would all prove to be a figment of his ridiculously over active imagination.

He started to reach out his fingers ever so slowly, but was surprised to feel warmth around his hand almost instantly. Aziraphale had the same idea it seemed, grasping Crowley's hand in his own, squeezing as if he was drowning and Crowley was the only thing keeping him from going under. They sat like that, hands clenched together, for the rest of the ride, in silence, both afraid that one movement or word would break one of them down.

Finally, they reached London and got off the bus a street away from Crowley's loft. They walked the streets, still hand in hand, into the building and up to the top floor. Finally Crowley broke the contact to open the door for Aziraphale, and followed quickly behind. He felt his resolve starting to slip away as the door shut.

It took all of two long, strides for Crowley to close the distance between the two of them. Aziraphale was in his arms, head tucked under the demon's chin. Crowley changed the tilt of his head so his nose was buried in the angel's blonde curls. He breathed deep, and thanked whoever as the scent of old books, rare wine, crisp snow, and hint of warmth filled his lungs. Adam had gotten the scent right at least.

In his arms, the angel was trembling.

"Shhh Angel, it's ok, I've got you." Crowley kissed the top of his head as he comforted his lover. "It's just us now, I'm not letting go, I promise"

He knew it was a hollow promise, but he was good at those. He was a demon after all. Heaven and Hell were vengeful sons of bitches. There would be no escape from this one, no new body, no reprimand and move on. This was the end of them both. Crowley would drown in holy water, Aziraphale would burn in hellfire. The only question was how long they had.

And what they were doing with the time they had left.

"Zira, look at me." Crowley whispered, grabbing the angel's chin and gently lifting his head, their foreheads touching as they breathed each other in.

Crowley took a moment to inspect the blue eyes staring back at him. Even with his sunglasses still on, he could tell the shade was perfect, exactly how Crowley always remembered them when they were apart. A brilliant blue with ever so few flecks of grey scattered thru out. Eyes that loved everything they saw, but that brightened the moment they locked onto the tall, red haired demon in front of them at the moment.

"We haven't got much time Zira. We both know where this is going."

"Annihilation" Aziraphale breathed back

"Fancy word for it but yes" Crowley tried to lightly joked back. He failed miserably.

Aziraphale bit his bottom lip ever so slightly. It was a human habit he'd picked up some hundred years ago whenever he was trying to hold something back. He always was an awful liar.

"What Angel?"

"It's nothing, I don't want to waste what little time we have left"

"Aziraphale, no second spent with you is ever wasted, no matter what."

That brought a slight smile to the angel's face. Although it did take all of Crowley's remaining willpower not to capture said lips and not let them go until Hell (or Heaven) came knocking.

"It's just, when I stepped into that circle, and well, became discorporated, all I could think of was that I didn't get a chance to say goodbye and now that I have the chance, I just can't bring myself to do it. I can't,well, I can't say goodbye to you."

"Then don't say it."

Aziraphale reached up to Crowley's face, carefully removing the demon's ever present sunglasses, not breaking contact. The glasses fell to the floor, no need for them now.

The angel stared back into the golden eyes he loved so much. The ones that were more expressive then any others he had ever seen, human or angel. The ones that right now were screaming all the things Crowley couldn't say.

I thought you were dead.

I need to know you're really here.

I'm sorry.

I love you.

And a million other things that only eyes that had seen 6,000 years of life can express.

If Aziraphale couldn't say it, he was damn sure going to show it. His lips captured Crowley's mid breath. It was desperate and rough and demanding and it had just as much emotion poured into it as Crowley's eyes had. Crowley's hands were on his hair, grasping, digging in, just as desperate as their lips. Aziraphale moved his to hold the demon's face in his hands. Next thing he knew, he was walking backwards, Crowley leading them back towards the bedroom. Normally he wouldn't be picky about the surface being used for the upcoming activities, but tonight was different. Tonight they were both burning into their memories, every touch, every sound, every taste. Something to hang onto in their final moments.

Speaking of taste, Crowley was happy to discover, Zira still tasted as he remembered. His kiss an intoxicating combination of sweet and demanding and a taste that could only be described as heavenly. Thank Adam he'd gotten that right too.

Aziraphale's legs hit the bed and the both tumbled down, not breaking their kiss, not even to breath (which was fortunate since they didn't need to). Crowley muttered something against the angel's lips.

"What my love." Zira broke away to clarify.

"Wings. No hiding tonight." Crowley replied back. He then began moving his lips down Aziraphale's neck, kissing and tasting every inch he could reach. Aziraphale grabbed the demon's face again, bringing his eyes back up to meet the angel's.

" You too then"

Both demon and angel manifested their wings, gleaming coal black against a brilliant white. Different and yet the same. Crowley reached out, stroking the white wings he'd grown to love, rather then envy. Wings that despite how many times he got on Aziraphale's case, always seemed disheveled. Even now, Crowley couldn't resists putting one back into place, running his fingers lightly thru them, one last time. He shuttered at the thought.

"Crowley" came the angel's heavy breath. "Please"

That was enough to undo the demon. The plea from the angel, his angel begging him for one last night together. Crowley returned to the angel's lips, passion and desperation renewed by his plea. A black and white wing met above them, as if sheltering them from the world, from the morning they knew would come.

The next few hours were spent memorizing each other, every inch, every mark, every sound in a way only lovers who know the end is coming can.

Hours later, they still lay together, naked, tired and sweaty. It's not the blissful quiet that usually followed, but rather a sad, heavy silence. Aziraphale can almost see Crowley counting down in his head as they stare at each other.

The angel breaks the silence first.

"Well my dear, what's the verdict, still me."

Crowley raises an eyebrow, but no verbal response. Damn it, he's been caught

"Don't look at me like that, ever since we got on that bus you haven't stopped scanning me, looking to make sure he got it all right."

This brought a smile to Crowley's lips. Of course the angel knew what he was doing, he always knew. The demon pushed his angel so back down into the mattress and climbed on top of him, covering him so that as much of their bodies touched as possible. His hand cupped the angel's chin as his lips connected, smile still plastered on his face.

He broke the kiss off "Yes Zira, still you. Perfect in every way."

"Well I don't know about the perfect part, but I trust your judgement, you are the expert in this department. You know me better then I know myself"

Suddenly, out of no where, Crowley's face changed. Instead of the sad smile that had plastered his face, his lips curved upward and his eye lite up. He looked purely diabolical as he started to laugh.

"What?" The very confused angel asked.

"Zira, beautiful, brilliant Zira... thats it. That's what she means"

Crowley was pretty proud of himself for figuring that riddle out. With Aziraphale's help of course.


End file.
